


Once More, With Feeling

by smug_albatross



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, Sort Of, The Major Character Death doesn't stick, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 19:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smug_albatross/pseuds/smug_albatross
Summary: Greystripe finally passes away in the elder's den, but instead of finding himself in StarClan he wakes up in the body of his apprentice self, back in the old forest.And he's not the only one.





	Once More, With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> I've been gone for AGES I know but in my defense, college is really hard.

The elder’s den was hot and stifling, even in the throes of leaf-bare.

“It’s the fever,” Alderheart told him, “it’s actually cold enough to freeze off Cloudtail’s...well, tail.”

Whatever it was, it _hurt._ Greystripe’s chest heaved as he struggled to draw breath, but he knew – he knew it was useless. He’d known since a starry ginger cat settled down next to him and rested his chin on Greystripe’s shoulders.

“Firestar,” he whispered.

 _I’m here,_ his old friend whispered. _I’m here._

“Where...is Silverstream?”

 _She’s coming,_ Firestar told him.

“It won’t be long now,” Alderheart murmured.

“Goodbye, Greystripe,” Cloudtail whispered.

Firestar pressed close against him. _She’s almost here,_ he promised. _It’ll be over soon._

The blackness that had hovered at the edge of his vision collapsed inward. Greystripe thrashed blindly in the dark. “Firestar!”

 _I’m here._ Firestar pressed his muzzle to the top of Greystripe’s head. _I’m here, it’s all right –_

The reassurance sounded hollow when Greystripe could sense the fear in Firestar’s own voice. “Fire –”

Greystripe’s cry was cut off as the last bit of air in his lungs left him and all sensation faded. He lashed out with his paws, struggling into something that might have been a standing position if he could only feel the ground underneath his paws. “Firestar! _Firestar!”_

The pain in his chest was gone. He could shout all he wanted now, but there was no response – _“Firestar!”_

_Greystripe?_

Firestar sounded young and scared and Greystripe’s heart hurt to hear it. “Where are you?” he yowled. “I can’t see –”

_I’m here – follow my voice –_

“I can’t –” Greystripe gasped as his feet found purchase. He bounded forward blindly. “Where are you?”

_This way –_

Greystripe swerved towards Firestar’s voice, running faster and faster as the ground beneath his feet turned into the rough dirt of the forest. Twigs snatched at his fur and bushes tugged at his legs, but Greystripe ran onwards. “Firestar!”

 _Greystripe_ –

“Greystripe!”

Greystripe woke with a gasp – but the world was still black. “What –”

“I’m here,” Firestar assured him. “We’re – this is going to sound mad – but we’re back in the old forest. Do you remember? The apprentice’s den.”

“... _what?”_

* * *

It wasn’t just Greystripe and Firestar – well, Grey _paw_ and Fire _paw_ now. Sandstorm, Dustpelt, and Ravenpaw were also present.

Sandpaw had a limp. Dustpaw had a persistent cough that kept him up at night. Ravenpaw had a constant stomach ache. And Firepaw –

Well, Firepaw couldn’t fall asleep without succumbing to yowling nightmares.

“So, what _are_ we going to do?” Greypaw asked after his plan to steal poppy seeds from the medicine den was summarily shot down.

“We’re going to kill Tigerclaw.”

Four cats turned to stare at Ravenpaw – at least, Greypaw assumed so, since that was the direction Ravenpaw’s voice was coming from and he heard nests rustling.

 _“What?”_ Dustpaw sounded horrified. “We can’t just – murder another cat –”

“It _is_ Tigerclaw,” Sandpaw pointed out.

“We’d be _exiled_ –”

“The horror,” muttered Ravenpaw, sounding distinctly un-horrified.

Greypaw heard scuffling and assumed that Dustpaw had taken a swipe at Ravenpaw. Firepaw chuckled next to him.

It was nice to hear his friend laugh again.

“Maybe we can get him exiled,” Sandpaw suggested. “If Firepaw’s here, that means Redtail’s already dead.”

The scuffling stopped. “You think so?”

“Probably,” Greypaw admitted softly. “I’m sorry, Dustpaw.”

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” Firepaw pointed out. “Last time we exiled Tigerclaw he just went and took over ShadowClan. Ravenpaw’s right – we have to kill him.”

“Thank StarClan,” Ravenpaw muttered. “Now, I’m going back to sleep. 

Greypaw heard Firepaw mutter, “Must be nice,” before he too was drifting off into a land of fat, lazy mice.

* * *

“Ow. _Ow. Ow, Firepaw!”_

“Sorry!”

Greypaw woke to Sandpaw’s yowl and Firepaw’s yelp. “What’s going on?”

“Sandpaw can’t move her foreleg,” Dustpaw explained. “The one that was infected when she – well –”

“Died,” Greypaw supplied. “So, Firepaw’s trying to help and it’s not actually helpful?”

Dustpaw snorted. “Basically.”

“Fun.” Greypaw sniffed the air and frowned. “Ravenpaw?” he called. “Are you there?”

“He went to get Spottedleaf.” Firepaw sounded childishly frustrated. “Also, Sandpaw’s leg is stuck.”

“What, like you can’t bend it?”

“Yep. Well, un-bend it.”

“Oh. Fun.”

* * *

Spottedleaf took one look at them all and confined them to the medicine den, which was met with four yowls of protest. Firepaw had been dragged off to see Bluestar, since, apparently, he was _not_ supposed to be there – which meant that Redtail might still be alive, which was nice.

Greypaw wondered if Dustpaw had put two and two together yet, and decided he probably had.

“This is stupid,” Dustpaw hissed, confirming Greypaw’s suspicions. “We should be _doing_ something –”

“Shut up,” Sandpaw snapped. “Greypaw can’t see, I can’t walk, Firepaw can’t sleep, Ravenpaw doesn’t eat and won’t _stop_ sleeping –”

“I’ve earned it!”

“– and you can’t breathe,” Sandpaw concluded as if Ravenpaw had never interrupted. “Face it, we’re not in any shape to be doing _anything_ right now.”

“What time is it?” Greypaw asked. “Sundown?”

“Not quite.”

“Firepaw!”

Firepaw hummed as he padded towards the four friends and flopped down in between Greypaw and Sandpaw. “I live.”

“What’s the verdict?” Greypaw asked, flopping over so he was half-sprawled on top of his friend.

 _“Oof –_ get off, you great lump.” But Firepaw burrowed closer against Greypaw’s side and yawned. Sandpaw moved closer on the other side and sprawled across Firepaw too. The end result was Sandpaw and Greypaw lying down back to back with Firepaw somewhere underneath.

“I’m being crushed,” Firepaw complained. “Haven’t I had enough trees dropped on me?”

“How many trees have you had dropped on you?” Ravenpaw asked curiously.

“Twice,” Firepaw said promptly. “I was killed by trees _twice._ And I realize that’s not a lot of times, but that is more than the average cat is hit by falling trees.”

Greypaw hummed in agreement, shifting his weight in order to smother Firepaw a little bit less. “That _is_ a lot of times to get hit by trees.” Then he frowned. “When did you get hit by the first one?”

“At the ShadowClan camp, when the forest was being destroyed,” Firepaw said. His voice went soft. “You had just been captured by the Twolegs.”

Greypaw flinched. “I’m sorr –”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sandpaw murmured, leaning over to lick his ear. The familiarity of the gesture made Greypaw blink and shove his nose into the moss in a vain attempt to hide.

Firepaw purred 

“So?” Dustpaw prompted, completely ruining the moment. “What’s the verdict?”

* * *

Eventually, Spottedleaf ran out of reasons to keep them in the medicine den, especially since ThunderClan had no other apprentices and Bluestar was getting restless. Firepaw had been assigned as Runningwind’s apprentice (so that was different) and everyone was to continue their apprenticeships as usual.

Well, everyone except for Greypaw. He was stuck in the medicine den with Spottedleaf, which wasn’t the _worst_ fate, but it could have been better. A lot better.

“Now I understand why Jayfeather was so grumpy all the time,” Greypaw complained as he shared a hare with Sandpaw. “There’s enough smells in that den to drive anyone insane.”

“Don’t be mean to Spottedleaf,” Firepaw mumbled. He’d been constantly exhausted in the half-moon since they’d arrived, running interference between Redtail and Tigerclaw (although Dustpaw usually did just fine on his own, sometimes his chest would seize up and he wouldn’t be able to breathe for coughing – and that meant Firepaw had to take over). They needed to get rid of Tigerclaw soon – for Firepaw’s sake if nothing else.

“I’m not being mean to Spottedleaf,” Greypaw protested. “But at least she can _see_ what she’s smelling. I have to stick my nose into it to even have a chance. Do you know _how bad_ yarrow smells? It’s _disgusting_ –”

Sandpaw gagged. “Why were you sticking your nose in a pile of yarrow?” she demanded.

“I was looking – well, not looking – but I was trying to find the borage leaves.”

“Ah.” Sandpaw nodded. “For the queens.” She _mrrowed_ in amusement. “How did you get yarrow mixed up for borage?”

“I’m not a medicine cat!” Greypaw whined.

“Not at this rate. 

Greypaw’s wail of dismay could be heard across the camp.

* * *

“We should move tonight,” Ravenpaw murmured as they crouched around a hare that Sandpaw had caught (having one lame leg wasn’t going to stop her from being the best hunter in the clan, apparently – much to Whitestorm’s consternation).

“Why?” Dustpaw asked, licking his muzzle clean of fresh-kill.

“Just trust me.”

* * *

They caught Tigerclaw sneaking over the ShadowClan border.

His outraged yowls filled the air as Sandpaw and Dustpaw pinned him down while Firepaw sank his teeth into Tigerclaw’s throat.

(The yowls stopped after that.)

“Are you okay?” Greypaw asked, touching Ravenpaw’s shoulder with his tail.

Ravenpaw flexed his claws. “Never better.”

* * *

They were dragging Tigerclaw’s body to the gorge when Firepaw hissed a warning. Ten seconds later, a ThunderClan patrol appeared on the path to see one very innocent apprentice sitting in front of a bramble bush that appeared to have grown a tail.

(Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, Firepaw, and Sandpaw were hiding in the brambles next to the body.)

Whitestorm slowed. “Greypaw,” he meowed. “What are you doing out of camp?”

“Am I out of camp?” Greypaw stared around mock-wildly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Mousefur snorted.

Whitestorm sighed. “Greypaw, it’s not _safe_ –”

Outrage surged through Greystripe's fur. “What do you know about _safe?”_ Greypaw spat, springing to his feet. “I can smell things I _never_ could before and still you treat me like a useless _kit!_ I could –”

He jumped when he felt a muzzle press into his shoulder. “Easy,” Firepaw whispered. “He doesn’t know, remember.”

Greypaw leaned briefly into Firepaw’s side. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Whitestorm sighed deeply. “Firepaw. Can I assume that the owner of the tail behind you is Dustpaw?”

There was a quiet rustle of grass as Ravenpaw pulled Tigerclaw’s tail into the brush.

“You could,” Firepaw agreed. “We’re sorry, Whitestorm, we’ll head back to camp –”

Greypaw snorted. Firepaw stepped on his tail.

 _“Ouch_ – yeah, sorry Whitestorm –”

Whitestorm’s sigh was the same long-suffering sigh Greypaw had used on every single one of his apprentices.

* * *

Sandpaw, Dustpaw, and Ravenpaw snuck back into the den after dumping Tigerclaw’s body in the gorge.

“He’s gone?” Firepaw whispered.

Sandpaw licked his cheek. “He’s gone,” she murmured.

“He’s gone,” Ravenpaw echoed. “Thank StarClan.”

“What if he comes back?” Dustpaw murmured. “Like...like he did...”

Greypaw touched his tail to Dustpaw’s shoulder. “He won’t,” he said. “He’s no leader this time, just a sad, angry cat who wanted to be important.”

“Maybe,” Dustpaw said doubtfully. “But how do we _know?_

They didn’t. And that was the problem, really.

* * *

 

So, they waited.

Greypaw fought Spottedleaf’s attempts to make him a medicine cat with tooth and claw, but eventually, he resigned himself to his fate after running headlong into a tree while trying to catch a rabbit. (Sandpaw had laughed at him for _days.)_ Eventually, Spottedleaf brought him to the Moonstone and he got to yell at StarClan in _person_ – right before getting his proper medicine cat name of Grey _foot,_ which rankled.

Speaking of Sandpaw, she never fixed her leg but still managed to be the fastest cat in ThunderClan – and if she couldn’t fight as well as she used to, well, fine. She was still a fine hunter and was lucky enough to keep her previous name and become Sandstorm after killing an adder that was sneaking up on Bluestar.

Dustpaw remained Dustpelt, but with fewer nightmares and more hope. He and Ferncloud fell tail over paws for each other once again, with his friends standing by and rolling their eyes in fond disgust (and privately vowing that his kits would outlive him this time).

Ravenpaw remained with ThunderClan, much to Greyfoot’s delight, but he disappeared for a few days after earning his warrior name – Ravenleap – and reappeared with Barley in tow 

(It caused a scandal that lasted long enough for Greyfoot to claw out a few patches of Darkstripe’s fur.)

* * *

When the Twolegs came, Fireheart – newly named ThunderClan deputy after Bluestar lost her last life to greencough, leaving Redtail to take her place – dragged the clans to the lake whether they liked it or not.

There they found Sandstorm, guiding the newly-remade SkyClan. The clans settled into their new, sprawling territories as Greyfoot guided the medicine cats to the Moonpool.

“How did you know it was here?” Leafpaw asked. Spottedleaf hadn’t survived the journey, and Greyfoot had immediately taking Leafpaw on as an apprentice.

(She just wasn’t born to be a warrior.)

Greyfoot purred. “Fireheart told me.”

Leafpaw didn’t ask any more questions. ‘Fireheart told me’ was enough explanation for her.

WindClan was once again tearing itself apart – Fireheart was too tired to interfere in the affairs of other clans and Redstar was only interested in keeping the border safe. ShadowClan had settled into their territory as if they’d been there forever and skirmished near-constantly with SkyClan – easily the smallest of the clans, but their numbers grew each day as Leafstar’s warriors visited the Greenleaf Twolegplace in search of new recruits.

RiverClan... RiverClan remained much the same. Leopardstar was as stubborn and proud as she’d ever been, and Silverstream lived on with Feathertail and Stormfur 

(Greyfoot had never met them. StarClan promised that the would remember him when they joined their ancestors – remember him as Greystripe the warrior, not just Greyfoot the medicine cat. He hoped that he would be able to remember who Greystripe the warrior is. Some days, it was hard to tell the two apart.)

* * *

Redstar passed away and Firestar took his place, slipping into the role as if he’d never left. He named Brackenfur as his deputy and Greyfoot’s heart swelled with pride upon hearing it – Brackenfur wasn’t his apprentice this time around, but oh, he was _so proud_ of him, so proud that he had risen so far under Ravenleap’s guidance –

He was so proud.

Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt looked disappointed – but with no prophecy and no Tigerclaw to force them to grow up, they stayed young and brash. Firestar never said how grateful he is for it, but he didn't need to. Greyfoot could feel it in his bones.

Tigerclaw died young and anonymous and unremarkable, without committing his terrible crimes. Sometimes Greyfoot thought he saw a flash of dark tabby fur among the cats of StarClan, but whenever he turned to look it was always someone else.

(Does it matter what he was planning if he never got a chance to act? He never finds out.)

With no leader, the Dark Forest stayed silent. Leafpool never meets Crowfeather, but Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight have kits anyway.

The clan doesn’t need another medicine cat, not with Greyfoot and Leafpool both, but Greypool took him on nevertheless. The other clans started to do the same – SkyClan was first, then WindClan (Onestar is still a problem, but that’s no surprise), then RiverClan and finally ShadowClan. There were plenty of snarling matches at Gatherings about it, but finally, Firestar pointed out that it made _sense_ and nobody wanted to argue with Firestar – even if they had no idea what he was truly capable of.

These cats had never heard of Scourge, after all. They never fought beside Firestar as the forest tore itself in two, never told their kits tales of Firestar the Brave who lead LionClan into battle twice – first against TigerClan, then against BloodClan, and emerged victorious both times.

So ThunderClan had another medicine cat, and Jayfeather was about as happy about that as he was the first time around.

Lionblaze bled like any other cat, and when Dovekit was born she couldn’t hear the whispers in the SkyClan camp.

Hollyleaf never felt the blood of her clanmate beneath her paws.

Deprived of everything that made Tigerstar Tigerstar, the Dark Forest remained in dreams, and the wise words of the medicine cats were enough to shake their influences.

The dead never walked among the living.

All is well.

* * *

Greyfoot passes first, as he was meant to do.

(He was never supposed to be the _last_ of anything.)

When he arrives in StarClan, Silverstream is waiting for him, and she greets him with a purr. “Hello, Greystripe.”

Ravenleap follows soon after, passing away on Barleystrike’s paws with a smile on his face. The first thing he says is, “Some things don’t change” before being immediately pounced upon by his mother.

Dustpelt arrives next, in the same fashion as he had last time – spitting and snarling in the floodwaters with badger claws buried in his fur. This time, Ferncloud is not there to greet him (but there _are_ kits because even with all his knowledge he could not save them all).

Sandstorm’s arrival is heralded by creaking joints and complaints about the cold, but her eyes are twinkling as Greystripe greets her and all four legs glide smoothly across the ground as she dashes through the trees.

Firestar, of course, is the last.

There is no Tigerstar to steal his lives, no prophecy to sap his strength. There is only his clan and his friends, and they surround him as he breathes his last, losing the last of his nine lives to the mundanity of age.

It’s fitting, Greystripe decides. His friend has lost many lives in service of others – he deserves to end at least one in peace.

Firestar dies with a sigh, and Greystripe and Sandstorm are waiting for him when he opens his eyes.


End file.
